


lowkey

by hqprotectionsquad



Series: Haikyuu!! One Shots [15]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, College, F/M, Inspired by Music, Mentioned Kiyoko Shimizu, One Night Stands, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Underage Drinking, college party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hqprotectionsquad/pseuds/hqprotectionsquad
Summary: You've nearly lost hope in your search for a soulmate, but little did you know, your soulmate lies in the spotlight of a moon, at night, and when you least expect it.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader
Series: Haikyuu!! One Shots [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702609
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	lowkey

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am cross-posting my content from tumblr (hqprotectionsquad) to this AO3 account. I hope you all enjoy! If you liked this one shot, please leave a comment or kudos!
> 
> This fic was inspired by NIKI's song "lowkey." Feel free to have a listen when reading!

“You’ll never find your soulmate, loser. I don’t even know why you keep trying,” one of the girls in your class smirks above you as she says this. She approaches you at your desk, furnished with permanent marker stains that you’ve attempted to wipe away. There’s no point. You’re seen just as dirty as your now gray desk. Two other girls flank her sides and knock a few things to the floor.

You don’t say a word because if you say something, they will immediately be twisted. Nothing hurts more than sitting through dozens of monthly soulmate ceremonies in school. Why do they need to celebrate when someone finds their other half when it’s expected in society anyways? What’s there to brag about? You can’t lie when there’s a nudging squeeze in your heart when you see all of the pairs forming a horizontal line on the school stage, reciting the poem you can say with your eyes shut and brain asleep. Sitting in the audience while everyone finds their true love burns a fire in your soul.

Your eyes trace imaginary lines into your uniform and you wait until you can hear their laughter drifting away. Your fingers reach for your belongings because this isn’t a fiction story where your soulmate will brush your knuckles as he reaches for your pencil case and you meet eyes. This isn’t a romance novel. This is the way your life goes, even if you’re the only one in your class that apparently hasn’t seen your soulmate.

Many people meet theirs in their childhood, or a popular way to meet their soulmates is when they’re first enemies and gradually become lovers. What’s the probability that you might fall in love in a cliché way that would make you want to roll your eyes otherwise? You’re only in high school. It shouldn’t matter because you’ll eventually meet your soulmate.

You’re now in college. Still, you’ve never taken part in a soulmate ceremony, but now, the university you attend holds these ceremonies in private instead of major assemblies in front of the entire student body. Part of you is very thankful for not having the want to gouge your eyes out every time someone bragged that they’ve been on stage to commemorate finding their soulmate. Another part of you is confused because how else will you find out who does or doesn’t have a soulmate? Many people are very private about their personal lives and won’t let you know until you maintain a very strong relationship with them. 

You, on the other hand, have no problem playing with the fates of time and love. At this point, you’ve almost lost all strength in your wishes of having a soulmate. Your roommate, Hitoka, will tell you on their way out everyday, “You never know who you’ll meet!” Yet, nearly every day is as boring as the last.

“I’m going to start seeing people,” you break the silence as you and your roommate are up one night while working on homework. You sink into your respective beds, hunching over your laptops and miscellaneous papers that won’t mean anything in four years.

“Like how?” Hitoka uses her knuckle to brush a hair out of her face, taking a moment to cast you a confused glance. Just as quick as she looks at you, she’s back to her own work.

“Well, I don’t know. Dates, probably sex. I don’t know if it’ll lead to a soulmate but I’ve almost given up on trying to find one. It’s like the universe hates me or something.” You sigh, placing your pencil to the side. “At this point, it’s not even something I’m actively seeking.”

“You should keep trying,” she tells you while she taps her head with the eraser of her pencil. “I met my soulmate a few years ago, but I didn’t know she was my soulmate until last year.”

“How did you know you clicked?” The homework is off to the side now. Talking about soulmates is much more interesting. You can always finish it in the morning. “Everyone always says that they meet their soulmates, they throw huge parties, but they never reveal how they knew they were the one.”

That is the most frustrating thing about this societal match up system. Even your parents told you that when you meet the right person, you would know. Back then, you found it so endearing, but as you grew older and wiser, you can see it’s just a way to make sure nobody cheats their way into a relationship that isn’t meant for them.

For a brief moment, you think she’ll brush it off to the side and tell you it’s something you figure out on your own. “Well, I joined the volleyball club as a manager because she was actually recruiting people and I was the only person who was up to it. I was so scared because she’s so pretty and so intriguing, and I’m just me.” The grin on her face stretches as she reminisces. It almost erupts a green flame in your stomach, but you push down any harmful feelings. “I was really shy, and I saw some really tall guys who looked super scary. And now, I’m standing in front of the door because I’m too scared to go inside. I eventually made it inside, but that’s just when we met. Last year, when she was paying a visit to the high school, I was pushed into her and I think it was just magic. I swear we were glowing, and she told me she was glowing.” Hitoka scratches her head. “The funny thing is, when we asked the volleyball team if they saw the light, they said they didn’t even notice I got pushed into her.”

“That’s…that’s amazing.”

Thus begins your search for your soulmate. Something about what your roommate said that day, you can’t pin it down, but something so wonderful brews within your heart. A new fire has come to the light in your soul and you’re ready for the mission.

You try to brush against other people when passing by them. Take friends’ hands if they aren’t uncomfortable with touching. Drop your books and give the helper a hug for doing something they didn’t have to do, and they fall into your half purposeful, half by accident trap.

Nothing you do makes anything feel right. In fact, it feels like the harder you try, the further you’re straying from your soulmate. 

“Maybe you’re just looking at everything in the wrong approach,” your roommate says nonchalantly, just putting in her two cents while you both wind down for the night. She’s brushing her hair, looking at her reflection in the mirror on the left side of the room. On the right side of the room, you sit at your desk, looking into the mirror sitting next to your lamp. Wouldn’t it be easy to pinpoint the reason why you haven’t met your soulmate yet? With each passing second, the resolve seems farther away, as if it is purposely running away from you. “Have you tried sex yet?”

You bite your lip. You’ve forgotten that you told her you’d do something like that, but you never followed up on your solutions. “Um, no.” Would it be too embarrassing to tell a potential hook up to be careful because you haven’t tried it yet?

“Go to the next party and I’m sure you’ll find someone. Even if they’re not the one, you’ll have a fun night. Maybe you just can’t think about things, you know? They can’t really come if you’re forcing it.” Hitoka nods to affirm you, and then without another word, she rests her head on her pillow and turns on her side.

You nod to nobody and slide under the covers with unease settling in between your bones. This feeling is as physical as it is mental; your bones tighten with your lungs squeezing. Nothing you shouldn’t be not used to, though. Ever since you recommended temporary relationships as a temporary solution, pangs attack your gut like nobody’s business. What is your body trying to warn you? Or maybe it is a sign to look for what is to come?

Whatever it is, you take it along with you to a party that an acquaintance invited you to. No frat parties for you, but club events usually have free food and drinks, and nobody is trying to take advantage of you for a ratio. It’s off-campus and you hail down a cab to take you to the location.

“Holy God,” you mutter, stepping out of the car, one foot at a time after paying your fee. Slamming the door, the driver almost immediately takes off, your arm seconds close to being detached from your body. “This can’t be a house.” It’s a towering complex of some sorts, three stories above the ground. No wonder it’s off-campus housing. It looks like it’s someone’s parent’s house with its carefully trimmed lawn and pristine windows that, you’re sure, some kid was privileged and invited friends to live with them.

“Coming in?” A girl beckons, waving you out of your rose-colored fog. “This is for the debate and engineering clubs, a joint party of some sorts.” Right, clubs that you have no membership in, but luckily, nobody really cares about that. 

You follow her into the house and it is as stunning as the outside. Vaulted ceilings greet you in the foyer and you’re certain the rooms can never be counted in full. The furniture looks perfect despite students hanging from each bit of it, slurping mixed alcohol and scarfing down snacks from the convenience store.

“Is there any particular reason for celebration?” You ask, but when you shift your head from focusing back on the girl, she’s long gone. The rest of the party is a blur. You don’t drink too much and you’re basically sober by the end of the occasion, and you wish you weren’t, to be frank. As toxic as your mentality is, you just want a reason to get out of your head for a night. Now, the real problem is trying to get home. The taxi driver earlier demanded two times the price of a usual drive, just because it was slightly out of his range, and presently, you flip through your bills, or rather, your lack of many.

“Hey, do you need help?” A boy with spiky hair approaches you. “You look a little lost and we’re about to finish for the night.”

The weight in your chest sinks even lower. With no friends here, you have no one to hitch a ride from and no one to call at this late hour. You thread your fingers through your hair without a word.

“Hey, don’t cry. Do you need a place to stay or something? Campus is kind of far from here, I wouldn’t mind opening my doors if you need.”

Your eyes widen and your heart freezes in the mix of blood and plasma. “Uh,” you’re basically speechless and your mouth moves up and down. “I don’t know if that’s safe.”

His hands raise to the shoulders of his hoodie, shaking his fingers. “I wouldn’t do anything like that. I don’t really take girls to my place, but I promise if you just need a place to crash, you can come. But of course, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just thought you’d want to postpone the ride until later, they upcharge even more in the middle of the night.”

Spiky hair boy makes a point. “Okay, thank you. What’s your name?” You ask as he leads and heads out of the house. What kind of dude does this? Is he some kind of simp, willing to do anything for a girl? Whoever he is, his face does not match his subservient personality.

“My name is Hajime.”

“I’m Y/N.” You keep your words to a minimum, just as a preventative measure. What if he sells your information on the internet, or plans on spreading rumors about you and all he needs is your first name? Your mind keeps swirling with the possibilities that he takes your hand in his.

“You look really pale. Are you okay? My apartment is only two blocks away. You just have to stick it out until then.” Hajime loops his arm under your shoulder to keep you balanced. Maybe he’s just a nice boy. Hasn’t his mom ever told him that nice boys finish last? He won’t ever get a soulmate if he’s this nice to you.

When you make it to the apartment, a new surge of energy rushes through your veins. “It’s two in the morning, you shouldn’t be this excited,” you mutter to yourself. To him, you ask, “You have a clean apartment. Is it just you here?”

“Yeah. I just like my area neat.” It shows, from the frugal amount of items in the garbage can to the lack of specks on his wooden desk next to the bed. “I can give you some clothes and a toothbrush, but besides that, I don’t really have any other stuff to share.”

“Thank you,” your voice trails off when you sit on the edge of his bed, which is neatly made with navy blue sheets that are pulled up to only two pillows. This is a simple man’s apartment, one that is evidently made for one person. Hajime is fetching the things he said he would, and your hands are folded into each other. Your fingers crunch against the opposite knuckles. Something is off about him and you can’t tell what.

With a hint of a smile, he hands off the clothing and the packaged toothbrush. “I just found whatever would fit you.” You take them, your brows gnawing at the center of your forehead. His own clothes lay in your hands and you can’t stop looking at them. His shirt and his pair of sweats are in your hands and somehow, your fingers won’t stop shaking. “What’s wrong?”

“I, I don’t know. I’m sorry, let me just change and get out of your way. The quicker I go to bed, the quicker I’ll get out of your hair.” His really beautiful hair, you think off-handedly. “That door over there is the bathroom, right?” You stand and you tilt your head back a little to get a better look of his face. He’s a serious looking guy and you wouldn’t want to cross paths with him on the street or even a classroom. 

“Right.” 

But even now, barely knowing him, you know he has a record of being a supportive person. You can tell. He’s probably the type to place a 500 yen bill into a person’s charity bucket and the type to be kind to everyone, no matter who they are. What kind of connection are you really feeling here?

You rush towards the door, fumble with the knob, and finally, you’re into his small rectangle of a bathroom. Your back presses against the door and your eyes shut as air comes in and out of your nose. “Oh my God.” Heat flows in your body and especially to your cheeks, as you see in the mirror. Is he experiencing the same emotions you are?

No. It can’t be possible and you refute any ideas that come to your head. This is silly! You’re just sleep deprived and you’re not thinking straight. You splash some water onto your face and stare into your reflection. These dark circles underneath your puffy eyes are a sign that you shouldn’t be thinking so hard. First, you brush your teeth with the toothbrush and some toothpaste you found in his cabinet. Then, you slip out of your damp clothing. You glide into his shirt that reaches to your thighs and his sweatpants that have extra fabric that pool at your ankles. You don’t need to intentionally sniff into the material to have his scent ingrained in your head.

“All good in there, (Y/N)?”

You come face to face with him after opening the door. “Yep, all good. Thanks for lending me your clothes and the toothbrush.” You slip past him, allowing yourself space. “Is it cool if I just put my stuff in this corner?”

He nods and then he bites his lip. “Take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor.” You couldn’t believe that the one time you actually get into a man’s bed, it’s not for a date or sex. The two things you wanted to do to mess around are thrown out the window. Would it be too early to rule them out?

It is too early to rule them out. You just met him, though he is a very kind person. It’s your tired brain trying to run faster than it can. You slip under the covers, it’s the same scent as before. It’s a mix of husky man and detergent, something you’d never really understand outside of a man’s apartment. Your head sinks into the pillow and you shut your eyes.

After ten minutes, you shift positions, fluff the pillow, count sheep. Nothing. You sit up, squinting your eyes to see Iwaizumi’s bare back hiding behind a sheet while he sleeps on the floor. He’s illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the one window in the apartment. Even though you’ve taken his source of comfort, he is taking it in stride.

“Are you awake?”

Iwaizumi hums in return.

“Thank you.”

“For what exactly?”

“For being you. I know we just met, but it feels like I’ve known you for a long time.”

Disregarding what you said, Iwaizumi sits up and stares at you. “Do you have a soulmate?”

“No. You?”

“No. Maybe we’re each other’s.”

All you can hear is your breathing and his in this quiet apartment. It’s quiet enough to hear yourself gulp. “I think we are.” How else can you explain how you’ve been feeling? Is this what Hitoka meant when you’d know? “How do we know for sure?” You’ve hardly been shy all of your life, yet now when you meet someone who could be your soulmate, you’re crawling into your skin.

“We can let this be our one night. If we don’t feel a connection, then I guess we aren’t soulmates.” Hajime says this all while biting down on his bottom lip. He doesn’t want to look at you, but he forces himself to make eye contact.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” There’s no going back anymore.

Hajime tosses his sheet off of his legs and sits on the edge of the bed, dangerously close to you. He takes one of your hands into his and studies the way your eyes look up and down, from either looking at all parts of him or just not wanting to look into his. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you whisper and after releasing one breath, your hands nestle along the dips connecting his neck to his shoulders and you kiss him. Your lips are on his and you’re lacing your fingers through his hair, taking him all in, taking this whole experience in. Your hands fit perfectly in his, your lips press against his in the perfect mold, and you wouldn’t be surprised if when you hug him, it’ll feel like the world melts away. Honestly, even though you told Hitoka you’d be fine with messing around, maybe you were just waiting for the right person. He doesn’t have to be perfect right now, but he will be the one who throws out all of the lists of traits you wanted in a soulmate. He will end up being the one item on your list.

And here he is in front of you, clutching onto your body like his life depended on it and basking in the presence of an almighty moon.


End file.
